That’s it?A quick glance over, then he accelerated when the light changed. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“When I was three, I was reading at the first-grade level, and I’m no brainchild. Spreadsheets by five, and I probably could have managed a sales division by fourteen.” She looked at him. “It was intense. Like living in a pressure cooker, every moment of every day.”
“You turned out okay. Better than okay, actually.”
“Thanks.” She touched his shoulder and raw desire pulsed through him. He wanted her so fucking badly. “How about some quid pro quo?”
Don’t do it.“When I was nine I saw my dad having sex.” Refusing to look at her, he took the ramp onto the parkway.
“Your parents must have freaked out.”
“My dad wasn’t having sex with my mom. He was screwing someone else.”
“Oh, wow,” she whispered. “That’s messed up.”
“My mom had gone back to work when my sister was in first grade. She’d gotten her Realtor’s license and worked weekends. My dad claimed to be working from home, so my mom arranged for my siblings and me to be at friends’ houses for playdates. I got home early one afternoon and spied him screwing some woman. There was a different woman each weekend. And once there were two at the same time. He was fucked up. I think he knew I was spying and he liked it.”
What was it aboutthiswoman that made him want to spill his guts? Colton glanced at her. “I’ve said too much.”
“Do you think you’re the first client who’s ever confided in their wealth manager? All our discussions are confidential.” Again she reached out and touched him, this time caressing his arm.
Her tender touch helped quiet the storm raging within. “My confiding in you has nothing to do with the fact that you manage my money.”
“No child should have to suffer through that,” she murmured as she removed her hand.
“Watching became my dirty little obsession. I was angry, confused, and conflicted over whether I should tell my mom. Yet I had this hard-on and a fucked-up solution of what to do with it.”
“That’s a lot for a little boy. Plus, a ruined relationship with your dad.”
Colton tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “There was no relationship. My dad was the meanest son of a bitch I’d ever met. Watching him screw all those women was the nail in the coffin.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she whispered. “Thank you for trusting me. I’ll never betray that confidence, Colton.”
He’d shared a twenty-three-year-old secret and she’d thrown him a lifeline. “Thank you.”
“Did you ever talk with anyone? You know, to help you work through it?”
“No one.” He glanced in her direction. “Until you.”
28
FORNICATION NATION
The treadmill was onthe last leg of the preprogrammed workout and Brigit felt the burn. But no matter how fast she jogged she couldn’t outrun her thoughts. It was late afternoon on Friday and she’d somehow made it through her first workweek at Mitus Conglomerate. Even with the stress of returning home to Francesco, the unknown whereabouts of Vinny Ray, and MobiCom’s acquisition play, she couldn’t stop thinking about Colton’s painful childhood and the abuse inflicted by his dad.
Earlier that afternoon, she’d forwarded Colton her summary report of his wealth overview. She’d have no problem freeing up thirty million. Her challenge? She disagreed with his current investments. The lack of direction was reflected in his meager earnings. Her immediate and five-year plans would revitalize his lackluster portfolio. Based on his need for control, she did not look forward tothatmeeting.
The machine completed the cooldown lap and slowed to a stop. Taylor—spinning nowhere fast—shouted, “I’ll come get you.”
With a thumbs up, Brigit headed upstairs to shower and dress. Tonight, Colton was throwing a Halloween party in the lower level Tapestry room. Though she loved dressing in costume, the Clothing Czar mandated formal wear and masquerade masks, neither of which she had.
She walked upstairs and down the hallway toward her bedroom. Propped against her closed door was a medium-sized box gift-wrapped with a black velvet ribbon. She brought it into her room and shut the door.
An elegant, hand-painted masquerade mask rested on a fluffy pillow of black tissue paper.How sexy.Rich, robust shades of red, gold and black popped against a bright white papier-mâché background. This gift included a handwritten note.
Dear Brigit,
I thought of you when I saw this beautiful mask.
